


golden

by flowerpetal



Series: gentle lovers [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/F, it's soft and gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerpetal/pseuds/flowerpetal
Summary: we end up laughing in the corners of the gardens, sprawled across the grass.





	golden

i feel her eyes on her body. tracing down my skin like fingertips, smoothing over curves and sending shivers down my spine. for a naiad, my resolve is weak, but it’s difficult not to tremble when her eyes are on you – watching carefully. it feels suffocating for a while; she keeps an eye on every little movement until i realise how soothing her gaze is and start to wonder if she does the same with others. i hope she doesn’t.

the gentle queen approaches, her king at her side.

‘have you recovered?’ she asks and i reply ‘yes’ and the chatter goes on. she moves around the hall, hair flowing in gentle curls down her back and all i can think is – more valiant, more just, more magnificent, most gentle of all. her smile feels like home and yet the cold of her brother’s eyes is terrifying, keeping me from ever saying any more.

i think of that smile when i lie in bed that night, imagining warm arms around me, kisses on collarbones and whispered thoughts in my ear. it hurts yes, but at least the comfort of dreams remains mine.

 

she turns down her first suitor the next month. many will follow and to all she will say no, forgive me, i cannot. it gives meaning to the midnight talks and straying eyes that have consumed my thoughts.

 

the night she leaves for calormen i weep in my bed. she had whispered a farewell into my hair that morning, promising to come back yet the fear does not back down. there are countless what ifs swimming in my head and all i have left of her is a mark on my neck, hidden beneath a lace scarf.

she comes back, of course. why did i ever doubt. but she comes back with news of battle and i am called to arms. with swords strapped to my back i ride out with the young king, scream my battle cries and return to her arms in tears that same night. she holds me in silence, waiting for my tears to stop, kissing them away when they do not.

 

we end up laughing in the corners of the gardens, sprawled across the grass, imprints of her lipstick on my hipbones. trembling fingers unlace corsets and we fall between sheets at night, singing love into each other’s ears. her crown of golden vines falls off the bed along with the worries of day as we consume one another – hoping, blindly saying it will be alright.


End file.
